Lights
by SpecialUncertainty
Summary: An epilogue to The Giver. "Where they were, the lights still twinkled bright."


_But perhaps it was only an echo…_

_**12 years later.**_

~:~

Where they were, the lights still twinkled.

That long day ago, on the sled gliding through the snow, Jonas had seen the lights all around him, sparkling in hues of red and yellow and blue. The music had danced through his and Gabriel's ears as the cold flakes fell into their eyelashes, and the dawn of a new world opened their eyes and made them bright.

Here, the town took them in, and heard their story. It was interpreted as something of magic, simply a drastic tale told by a strange child. But none the less, they had accepted them. They grew up, becoming old and unlike the first days, where Jonas had been thirteen and Gabriel only two, they were now twenty-five and fourteen.

Jonas treated Gabe as a brother. He had felt the bond of love, and made the deep connection as he cared for Gabriel and passed the pleasant memories to him. He took care for him, and though Gabriel can't really remember the community Jonas tells him of it; and how he would have died. Lies are not something that Jonas commits too; though they are not forbidden.

They lived in a home, something different to Jonas, where the lights shone bright and the rooms erupted with the inhabitants design and taste. They were all different here, and Gabriel could see the colors. To Jonas, Gabe was a color. He was a light. He was the yellow one.

He could remember his matted golden curls, which had not faded, and the era of happiness and peace that radiated from him. He warmed Jonas, like the sun had warmed them both before. He lit the paths of Jonas' decisions, and he stayed with him through everything; acting more as a guardian than a brother. Jonas loved him; the emotion that he was all too familiar with now; and he reminded him of Giver.

But Gabriel wasn't the only light. There was also the red one. Red, like the color of the hair of the girl Jonas once cared for. Now, it was the color hair of the new girl he loved. Her name was Jasper, and her long locks feel to back just as Fiona's had. They had met her sliding down the mountain, and spilling snow all over her. She was bright, she was warm, and she was filled with love for all. Something Jonas needed. And his need was fulfilled.

And then, there was blue. The blue light that shown brighter than all the rest, holding a length of superiority over the rest. Blue, the color of the eyes of Jonas; and the eyes of Gabe; and Giver; and Jasper; and their new daughter. The eyes that held the doors to memories and thoughts and all that Jonas had once had. The blue that held the good; and the bad. But it was okay, because the pros outweighed the cons.

Yes, the lights still shone, and they rang bright and beautiful, explosions of color is Jonas' world.

Then there was the music.

The sounds and melodies of peace and curiosity would still ring through his ears all throughout his days; and even in the voices of those he loved. The sounds were just perfect to his ears, and it seemed he would never hear them enough.

Along with those he loved, some were gone. And he had known Giver was gone. When he had passed, Jonas had felt it. He had felt the sense of goodbye; like the one he wandered if Giver had felt himself. That was how Jonas knew the community would be okay. They would thrive. They would create. They could be _free_. They would remember; and with that they could live.

So, as the days passed and the memories swirled through Jonas' mind like the flurries of snow, he was happy. Happy, because they were real. They were his. And now, no one could take them.

He walked outside, and leaned against the frame of the door to his home, watching as Jasper play with Gabe, throwing balls of snow at one another. Another girl, a girl of Gabe's liking, stood by as well, head of gold locks, falling back in laughter. And then there was his daughter, the small, two year old, running around, her long blonde hair hanging in curls as Lily's once was. And perhaps that's why that was part of her name. But it was only the middle. For her name was Rosemary. Rosemary Lily Giver, and her name was a stand of its own.

It said no one could hold her. She was fragile; and she should stay that way. She had bravery. She had courage. She had strength.

And it wasn't just a memory.


End file.
